


In which Grunt always comes back for his mama - er, battle master

by Regen



Series: Post-War Stories [1]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Gen, Mention of death and corpses, Post-Canon, Post-Mass Effect 3, blood mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2015-12-07
Packaged: 2018-05-05 12:25:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5375117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regen/pseuds/Regen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post Destroy ending. A massive search area and low odds mean diddly squat to Grunt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In which Grunt always comes back for his mama - er, battle master

Grunt scrutinized the report in his hand, reading over the updated names of the dead and missing. There was only one he was particularly interested in, and it didn’t take long to find it.

_Lieutenant Commander Rowan Shepard – MIA (presumed dead)_

He tossed the datapad to the side without a second thought before resuming his path across the warzone that was the Citadel.

Logic and probability and all that other nonsense the higher-ups spouted determined that Shepard died in the explosion. Everything in him that was krogan – his instincts, his experiences, his very blood – screamed that she lived. Somehow. And she was waiting for them to find her.

Normally he’d scoff at the idea of Shepard waiting for a rescue. But considering the way the Citadel had blown, he knew that even _she_ wasn’t going to walk away from that of her own volition.

Grunt’s eyes narrowed as he watched another support beam collapse, kicking up dust and debris when it crashed to the ground. He stood unfazed, even as others shouted and scattered. _Jumpy pyjaks,_ he thought with a shake of his head.

It’d only been two days since the Reapers fell. Clean up had been slow as crews combed the station for people, hoping to find survivors. So far, they’d turned up far more dead than living. The whole station was a chaotic mess of bodies, rubble and blood.

But the Reapers were dead, and so they could rebuild. Shepard had given that to them.

Miranda’s voice in his ear pulled him from his reverie. _“Grunt, any progress?”_

The young krogan tapped on his earpiece to answer Miranda. “Saw more bodies earlier. Flagged for the crews to come get them. Nothing new.”

He felt like he’d seen more bodies the past two days than he had in his entire life. It hardly fazed him, but it certainly made the scope of the clean-up that much more overwhelming.

 _“Nothing on my end, either. Wrex is sending more of his men to help with the search.”_ Thanks to their natural adaptability and redundant organs, the krogan warriors were bouncing back from their injuries quicker than the other species’ soldiers. _“He’s damn determined to find her.”_

Grunt, Miranda, and many others had volunteered to come to the Citadel to search. Officially they were searching for _any_ survivors, but her old crew was really there in the hopes of finding Shepard. Morale precariously hinged on finding her, and it dwindled with each day the search teams turned up with nothing.

Grunt refused to let it daunt him.

“We’ll find her, even if it means tearing this whole damn place apart,” he said, echoing Wrex’s words from two days ago, when the search had officially begun.

_“…I hope you’re right.”_

“Any word from the _Normandy?_ ”

“ _No. But she’s hardly the only ship that’s MIA. That blast from the Crucible made a lot of ships go offline. The blast would have… killed EDI. It’s likely they had to crash land.”_ Her voice barely wavered, but Grunt could hear it: the barely perceptible tinge of worry and grief that threaded her words.

He snorted. Given what that crew of the _Normandy_ had gone through, he merely laughed at the thought of them possibly being dead. _Fat chance._ “They need to get their asses back over here and help search. I’m not gonna find Shepard and have to tell her that her ship is missing.”

He could hear the smile in her voice as she answered, _“Agreed. I’ll lecture them and you can headbutt one or two of them for good measure.”_

“Even Garrus?” He couldn’t fight his grin at the thought.

_“Sure. I’d only recommend you not headbutt Joker, Tali or Kaidan. You’d likely kill Joker and Tali.”_

“Ha! True enough. But Kaidan would be fine.”

_“If you manage to avoid damaging his implant. But Shepard would be upset.”_

And he would never, ever admit that he would rather breed pyjaks for a living than do anything to seriously upset Shepard. “Fine. I’ll go for Garrus and that Vega guy.”

_“Now that that’s settled, we need to get back to searching. Keep me updated.”_

“Yeah. Grunt, out.” He let his hand fall to his side, exhaling as he braced himself for the long search ahead.

 

* * *

 

The next three hours hardly differed from the last. Just more bodies. Some old, some young. He found a group of children huddled together, hiding in some crates. Their blood, now dry, pooled around them and covered the walls.

 _Don’t think about it,_ he told himself, pushing the image from his mind.

The sun beat down on him. The Citadel was stuck in orbit around Earth, and while shields had been restored to protect the search parties from radiation, they offered little relief from the heat. Grunt ignored it as he continued sifting through the debris.

It was a simple process: sift, listen, wait. If nothing, then repeat. Searching for bodies and survivors was a monotonous task, only broken up when he found something. It all began running together after a while, so much that he almost missed the familiar metallic clang of a weapon hitting the ground.

He frowned, searching for the source of the sound. On the other side of the pile of rubble he’d been going through, he spotted a Paladin pistol lying on its side, abandoned.

Grunt climbed over the pile and slid his way down to the pistol. He picked it up, checking it over in his hands. There were scorch marks all over it. Wherever it had been, it’d been through an inferno. On a hunch, he checked the bottom of the grip, which remained remarkably unmarred.

He almost couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw etched into the bottom: _R. Shepard._

“Miranda!” he all but shouted, slamming his hand to his earpiece. “You copy me?”

Seconds later she answered, “ _Loud and clear. What is it?”_

“I found Shepard’s pistol.” He couldn’t contain the mix of nerves and excitement he felt. If her pistol was here, then reasonably, Shepard shouldn’t be too far.

A long, pregnant pause followed before she said, _“Are you sure?”_

 “Yes,” Grunt said with a roll of his eyes. “Unless someone engraved ‘R. Shepard’ at the bottom of the grip for the hell of it.”

_“Good enough for me. Where are you?”_

“Zakera Ward, near the Factory District… I think. Hard to tell anymore.”

_“Keep searching that area. I’ll inform Hackett and the others. Kasumi, Jacob and a lot of personnel from the Crucible project just arrived on the station an hour or so ago to help with the search. I’ll send everyone I can down your way.”_

“Good.” Although, naturally, he wanted to be the one to find Shepard, as long as someone found her, Grunt wouldn’t really care. “I’ll tell Wrex. He’ll be sending people over, too.”

_“The more the better. Let’s just hope it doesn’t end up in a wild goose chase for nothing.”_

Grunt blinked, the idiom lost on him. “Why would we be chasing goose? We’re looking for Shepard. And what’s a goose, anyway?”

Miranda sighed. _“It’s a human phrase. Going on a wild goose chase means pursuing a hunt or search that doesn’t yield anything. A futile effort, if you will. And a goose is a kind of bird.”_

Just when Grunt thought he understood humans, they pulled out crap like this and he continued to remain puzzled by them. “Who the hell chases birds? To hunt them? If it’s a futile effort, then find different game.”

 _“Oh, for – it’s an old phrase, Grunt. Nothing more.”_ Before he could ask more questions (mostly to annoy her), Miranda continued, “ _Contact Wrex and keep looking.”_

“Fine,” he muttered. She just had to ruin all his fun. He tapped his earpiece again, signaling for Wrex. “Clan leader. I found Shepard’s pistol. Miranda Lawson is going to contact Hackett and let him know.”

A burst of static answered Grunt, making him wince. No surprise, given that Wrex was still on Earth. Long range communication had been a pain in the ass, at best. The static continued for a moment before it finally cleared up.

_“Grunt, it’s Wrex. Your message didn’t get through right. Something about a pistol?”_

“Yeah, I found one. It’s Shepard’s.”

_“…Finally. I knew something would turn up. Anyone letting Hackett know?”_

“Miranda said she would.”

_“Good. I’ll pass it along to the turians, too. Victus has a lot of his guys hunting. Where are you? I’ll send the best of the scouts and hunters your way to help you.”_

Grunt relayed his location, pointing out anything that could resemble a landmark.

 _“They should be there in an hour. I’ll light the fire under their asses.”_ Though he clearly seemed excited, concern leaked through as he continued, _“Every hour we waste is one Shepard can’t get back. Her chances can’t be great as is, and I’m not wasting more time. Tear through everything. Find her.”_

“Don’t need to tell me twice. Grunt out.”

Once he signed off with Wrex, he leaned down and readjusted his weapons, making room to clip Shepard’s pistol to his belt. It was his battle master’s weapon, and he would treat it with the respect it deserved. With any luck, he’d be able to return it to her.

As he straightened up, he took in his surroundings. Even assuming Shepard landed near where her pistol was, that still left a considerable area to search: shops, homes, offices… and those didn’t include the huge piles of rubble that were scattered everywhere. All the possibilities made his head hurt. He’d leave it to the thinking types to figure that out. He was krogan; he’d just rip through the landscape until he found her.

He thoroughly went through each pile and building, ensuring that Shepard wasn’t there before moving on. As he cleared each heap, he heard more and more people rummaging through the surrounding area. As Miranda and Wrex had promised, help had come.

He looked up, nodding in satisfaction at the turn out. He could see a mix of nearly every species, all sifting through the rubble and looking. Krogan lifted the heavy pieces, allowing humans, quarians and asari to poke through the gaps and search. Biotics also assisted with the lifting, picking up debris that were even too heavy for the krogan, or simply too dangerous to lift. The turians had shown up, too, organizing the effort and making sure the search was carried out as efficiently as possible. No stone left unturned, but also no stone turned over twice.

“Grunt!” Kasumi’s voice rang clear over the ever growing din of voices and crumbling debris.

He turned and found the thief coming up towards him.

“Goto.” He nodded in greeting. “You finally made it.”

“Took a bit longer than I’d like. That blast did a number on the systems of the ship I had escaped on. We almost crashed.” She looked around her, arms crossed in contemplation. “Heard you found Shepard’s pistol.”

He motioned to it on his belt, letting her see for herself.

Kasumi leaned down to take a look, gently lifting the pistol in her hand. Her hood hid her features, but Grunt could see her gently running a thumb over the engraved letters on the grip bottom. “I recognize it. It’s… been through a lot. But it’s still intact.” She looked up, lips pulled into a tight frown. “Let’s hope its owner made out the same.”

“If anyone got out of that, it’s Shepard.” Grunt motioned to an area he hadn’t gone through yet. “Start over there. Let me know if you need stuff moved.”

She nodded before straightening up and fixing her hood, eyes set straight ahead in a determined gaze. “Like a needle in a haystack. No problem for a thief, though.”

Grunt barely acknowledged her as he made his way over to the next area on his list to search.

To his surprise, the search carried on in relative quiet. Kasumi was usually chatty, but she seemed as absorbed in the effort as he was. Occasionally she’d call out if she found something, whether another body or something that looked important. Otherwise, she was quiet. He enjoyed the silence, and let it linger as they worked.

 

* * *

 

The day’s search began to draw to a close. Grunt could feel the weariness slowly set in. And he knew if he was growing tired, the others were likely exhausted.

He growled in frustration, punching the wall next to him. He’d been certain they would have found Shepard by now, but it seemed her pistol landed a ways from its owner. Each status report relayed throughout the day to his superiors only worsened his anger. Right now he would have almost been glad to see a Reaper, if only so he could kill it and vent his irritation.

Kasumi tapped his shoulder. “Hey. They’re gonna call it in about fifteen. We’ll start again in eight hours, once everyone’s had a rest.”

Gritting his teeth, Grunt looked away. He didn’t want to rest. He wanted to look. If the others wanted to stop, then fine. But he was krogan. He didn’t need rest. He needed to find Shepard.

Taking his silence as assent, Kasumi drifted off.

Grunt ran a hand over his face in an attempt to calm himself. He’d found Shepard’s pistol; that was more than they had yesterday. _But it’s not enough. It’s not Shepard._

On a whim, Grunt glanced over to his left, where stores had once stood. Teetering on the fringes of the district was a warehouse, all but caved in. He spotted a hole big enough for him to climb through that led further inside.

His blood quickened, and his senses heightened. He suddenly felt like he was staring over the edge of a cliff, unsure as to what was at the bottom. Yet, his very muscles seemed to scream that he needed to look in there.

He learned early to never ignore instinct. Okeer taught him that, and it was one of the few lessons he’d taken to heart from the start.

“Kasumi!” he called to her. “You look in there?” He jerked his thumb at the warehouse.

She turned to where he was pointing. “No. But we only-”

He tuned her out as soon as she said ‘no’. The noise around him seemed to fade away as he approached the hole with a single-minded dedication. He dipped down, the crest on his head barely clearing the top of the hole.

Darkness greeted him when he ducked inside. The ceiling somehow still held up, for the most part, save for a cave-in towards the back. Grunt squinted in the dark as he fumbled to turn on his flashlight. As it finally kicked on, he lifted it and pointed it straight ahead, tilting up so he could see where the roof had collapsed. A large piece of debris had come through, crushing that segment of the roof, likely from when the blast went off.

Distantly he could hear Kasumi calling for him, but once again, Grunt paid no mind as he climbed. His whole body tensed in reaction to something he could not determine. He sniffed the air. For once, the stench of death did not greet him.

Something stirred.

His head jerked up in alarm. He sniffed again and waited, noting how unnaturally still the room seemed. Nothing moved, but it did nothing to discourage him from continuing his climb. He scrambled over upturned crates and fallen machinery, almost losing his footing twice. Progress was slow, his limited lighting only complicating matters.

His earpiece signaled. _“Grunt, it’s Miranda. Where are you? Today’s search ended. You need to meet up at the rendezvous.”_

“I’m checking out something first.”

_“Grunt-”_

“I’ll be there later,” he cut in, ending whatever annoyed tirade she was about to launch into. “There’s someone in here.”

Just as he relayed his message, he reached the cave-in.

He swung his light up at the hole in the roof. An enormous beam speared the ceiling, surrounded by a landslide made up of plaster, metal, and concrete. It spilled out from the hole: an enormous pile littered with shards of glass and other bits Grunt couldn’t identify.

 _“_ Who’ _s in there?”_ Miranda demanded.

“Shut up and let me look and then I can _tell you_ ,” Grunt snapped back.

Whatever Miranda said, Grunt steadfastly ignored (he was beginning to sympathize with Wrex’s muttered tirades about _women_ ). Instead he focused on the wreckage around him. The flashlight illuminated some more of the debris, and Grunt noticed that some of it bore similar scorch marks to Shepard’s gun.

_Whatever torched the Paladin got this, too. Was it the-_

He didn’t finish his sentence. As his light swung to the left, something glinted in its rays, catching the krogan’s attention. He turned and looked, moving the light around until he found the gleam again.

Dog tags emblazoned with the N7 insignia reflected the light back at him.

It took a lot to catch Grunt off guard, but that did it. He froze, eyes widening slightly as he stared at the tags. He couldn’t make out a name from that distance, but he could see armor, severely blackened and charred. One leg stuck out of the rubble, the other pinned beneath it. A chunk of plaster blocked the rest of the body from view.

Grunt clicked his earpiece again, this time raising all channels. Everyone would want to know. “Clan leader. Miranda. And… all you other people heading the search.” The words wanted to stay stuck in his throat. “I… found a body. N7 tags. Going to investigate.”

He began his approach, his steps deliberate and slow. Though it was possible it could be any N7 marine there, he knew it was her. It had to be. And so far, she hadn’t moved. His gut clenched as he moved closer.

Miranda answered first. _“I’m on standby. Can you tell who it is?”_ Her voice was detached, clipped. Though Grunt wouldn’t call himself close to Miranda, he knew her well enough to know that it was her way of distancing herself, to prepare for the worst.

“Not yet. In a minute.”

He heard static. Likely Wrex checking in, but not saying anything until he heard confirmation from Grunt. Waiting, like everyone else.

When Grunt reached the body, he inhaled sharply. _Damn you, Shepard. Be alive._

He grabbed the piece of rubble blocking his view and began to push it aside, careful to make sure it wouldn’t cause anything to fall and crush Shepard. He heaved and strained until it finally gave in and moved. He stood back.

It was her. Not that it was easy to tell. The N7 insignia on her armor was gone, burned away in the explosion she’d been caught in. And it’d been a hell of a fireball. Half of her face and the rest of her body not covered in armor bore severe burn marks. Her hair was reduced to tiny singed strands that didn’t even cover her scalp. All of her guns were gone, save for the one Grunt had clipped to his belt. Her dog tags sprawled over her chest piece, and now he could read the name inscribed: _Shepard, Rowan._

He bowed his head, signaling his earpiece as he kneeled down next to her. “…it’s Shepard. She’s-”

A small gasp cut him off.

Grunt stilled, shock freezing his limbs, as Miranda and Wrex were left forgotten for a moment.

Shepard sucked in another breath, and her fingers curled into her palm.

 _“She’s_ what _, Grunt?”_ Miranda snapped.

“Breathing.” Grunt grinned like a maniac, his shoulders shaking in suppressed laughter. “SHE’S BREATHING,” he shouted, for how could he not? “SHE’S ALIVE! GET SOME DAMN MEDICS IN HERE!”

Chaos erupted over the comms. He could make out Wrex roaring in triumph as Miranda yelled for everyone to shut up so she could get a location on Grunt.

 _“He’s near me, in a warehouse!”_ Kasumi’s voice cut through the chatter, clear as a bell. _“I’ll shoot off a flare.”_

While Miranda barked orders over the comms to organize medics, Grunt turned his attention to Shepard. His eyes darted to the rubble that pinned her leg. It would be impossible for him to move it and be able to move her out of the way. It would have to stay until the med crews arrived. And then there was the issue of getting her out of here-

 “…’unt?”

It felt like his heart skipped a beat. “Shepard?”

She coughed weakly, a pitiful sound that barely resonated in the enormous warehouse.

“I’m here.” Grunt sat down next to her. As an afterthought, he placed a hand over hers. He knew human eyesight was weak, especially in the dark. He sucked at the whole “comforting” thing, but he would try, for Shepard’s sake. “Miranda’s coming with medics. And hopefully some of my guys. Lot of rubble here.”

Her fingertips barely brushed across his palm. Every movement of hers – even her breaths – was slow and measured. When she tried to turn her head to look at him, it took considerable effort. She hissed in pain, and Grunt had to place a hand on her shoulder to stop her.

“Not going anywhere, Shepard,” he said.

Suddenly, he remembered her gun, still hanging at his side. He unclipped it from his belt and put it in her hand. “You dropped this. Figured you’d want it back.”

“Thanks…” She drew in a ragged breath, fingers straining to grip her gun. “Am I gonna,” Another breath. “need it?”

He knew what she was really asking, the real question behind her words. “Not anytime soon,” he said with a grin. “Not against Reapers, anyway. They’re all dead, Shepard. Whatever you did, it worked.” There was no shortage of pride in his voice.

Her body finally seemed to relax, content in the knowledge that the job was done. “Good.”

He chuckled, that little laugh that always made her smile and crinkle her nose. And though he couldn’t see it, he could feel it in the way her fingers tried to reach out for his, her gun forgotten and unneeded. He squeezed her hand, a silent reassurance, and waited with her for help to arrive.


End file.
